


Flirtatious

by WarriorOmen



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Banter, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Movie, Romance, Sex, Slight Roleplay Themes, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorOmen/pseuds/WarriorOmen
Summary: Joe is suave, Nicky is a tease, and they drive each other wild. Maybe pretending to be training as an excuse to flirt and chase each other is a weak excuse, but neither Joe nor Nicky can say it doesn’t have its appeal. Set about two years before the movie.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 159





	Flirtatious

It’s low twilight, and there’s a distinct hum to the air that sends a tantalizing vibration down Nicky’s spine, light, filtered excitement that holds the promise of possibility and passion in its wake. He knows Joe feels the same, left leg bouncing beneath the small café table, starring off into space and occasionally poking at the remnants of his dinner that he’s lost interest in.

Nicky finally pushes his own leg out, gently pressing into Joe’s knee with his own, the question hanging in the air answered by Joe simply nodding, Nicky already grabbing his wallet before Joe can get his own.

Cinque Terre has changed a lot since it was part of Genoa, and now filled with more tourists than Nicky could shake a stick at, or even begin to surmount. But he tells himself it’s difficult to be sad about the changes when there is still such beauty to it. Even if it was improbable for anyone in the area that wasn’t Joe to see it and think back to so many bygone centuries prior.

That is also distinctly not tonight’s mood, nor what he and Joe have been both thinking of since the atmosphere turned to their straying thoughts.

These ancient places, they bring back some very _interesting_ memories for them, and it was always a thrill to take such advantage. Joe’s gathering the scenery in his mind, Nicky can tell, eyes scanning the streets, the buildings, and the winding pathways. The area is dense and overlooks the beach sitting below, straight out to the ocean. With it being summer, they’ll have the twilight glow for some time yet, and it’s a perfect set up.

Nicky draws him in, all sinewy and tantalizing, arm snaking about his waist to pull them flush, chest to chest, hand skirting down the soft blue polo shirt Joe wears, bring him to a kiss that’s barely a brush, because if Joe wants more, he’ll have to find him.

Joe tightens his hold, attempting to keep Nicky stilted, but Nicky only slips away with a deft twist of his hips, giving a final look over his shoulder before effortlessly mingling into the crowd, disappearing with a row of street traffic around the corner.

_Catch me if you can._

They’ve done this before and-at first, had tried to tell Andy it was for training.

“It’s good to enhance your skills.” Joe had justified.

“Helps keep the brain sharp.” Nicky added.

She’d seen right through them, of course, and only scoffed affectionately.

The flow of foot traffic had made it simple for Nicky to get a good distance between himself and Joe and attempting to act causal about the pursuit was a slight challenge. Sure, he could put on a neutralized appearance at the drop of a hat, and cover his emotions expertly, but the coiling excitement in his gut, the heat spreading to his very fingertips threatens to make him clumsy. Joe knows _him_ very well too, as he does this area. Nicky knows that, at best, he’s only taken a ten-minute head-start (if that) while Joe inevitably catches up to him.

Feeling cheeky, Nicky turns himself into a store’s open door-something selling clothes and other casual knick-knacks, or bits and bobs. He hardly cares to the contents, sliding beyond the doorway and into the shop fully, stealing a chance to blend in with two clothes racks placed side-by-side, only centimeters of distance between them.

The shirts he’s faced with are bold, some decent looking enough, others near abominable in their bright flashiness and hideous patterning. He may not be a fashion critic of any sort, but _honestly._

He’s only pulled himself from the racks to contemplate a display of trinkets, (mostly small boats that look like toys) when he feels Joe materialize at his left, hovering just so over his shoulder.

It’s impossible for Joe to sneak up on him, and he Joe, but he feels the heady rush of excitement cloud his brain a half-second, gently breathing in the recognizable cologne, tinted by the salt air, and shudders when Joe muses, “You’ll find something of far better quality up-town, you know. As a suggestion, of course. I have a good knowledge of the area.”

Joe’s Italian is perfect, after so many years in use, and Nicky responds in kind, “You think me a tourist? How bold of you, perhaps _I_ know this area better than yourself.”

“Do you?” The question coming out slightly thick and syrupy, near deliriously sexy to Nicky’s ears-bastard.

_Fuck._

“I do.” Nicky retorts, ever the presence of nonchalance and mild un-cooperation, “And do you make a habit of startling random persons and giving them your advice like some drive by therapist?”

Joe thrills at his words, at his playfully biting tone. Nicky knows from the way he can feel Joe flex slightly at his side, the heat radiating to himself, their bodies so accustomed as they were to sharing it, magnetizing to one another.

They’ve not met each other’s gazes, both staring at the boat shelf.

Joe leans in _just so,_ nearly grazing Nicky’s ear with his words.

“Only the pretty ones.”

Nicky bites down the grunt he wants to make furiously, Joe’s tone a growling coil that (in most cases) brings Nicky to his knees embarrassingly fast. Control, however, is of the _essence here._ After all, they’re just starting out.

“Sorry.” Nicky says, proud of how secure he sounds in it, “But _this_ pretty one takes a little more wooing than some smart language skills.”

He’s moved away before Joe can properly retort, slipping beyond Joe with the kind of fluidity that makes Joe radiate, the kind that he knows can be transferred so easily to other enticing activities.

_You’re on, babe._

This time, Nicky disappears a little quicker, abandoning that street entirely for another a good four blocks away, winding down the steeper pathway and pretending like he’s not so excited he can scarcely catch his breath, so light in his movements his feet hardly connect with the ground beneath. Floating, almost.

He knows Joe is close, Nicky’s a subconscious homing beacon to the man, as long as they’re in the same proximity, Joe will always find him.

It’s romantic, and calming, even with the rising excitement thudding in his chest as Nicky makes a split-second decision to put himself more in the lead here, giving Joe something to look at and feel challenged by when he inevitably discovers him yet again.

There’s a street vendor selling magazines, and Nicky grabs the first one he sees, barely registering the cover or what it’s about before paying the man and propping himself up against a lamppost, confronted by a large, gaping cat fish half-leaping from the water.

How ironic.

He pulls it open to a random page and ducks his head, propped by his hip and shoulder to the post, the picture of casual innocence. Just a random man passing the time, nothing conspicuous about it at all.

Foot traffic is still heavy enough that Joe goes unnoticed, at first. Nicky only registering him when there’s a brief pause near his shoulder, the ghost of breath against his ear, bringing the hairs on the back of his neck to life, the flesh rising in anticipation of the soft, warm lips it knows so well.

Alas, Joe’s moved away before Nicky can properly gage him, hovering near a stop sign and making a show of checking his phone.

Nicky’s in the lead now, and Joe’s letting him, gaze focused a little too high up to be truly reading his phone screen, and sure, Nicky can work with that _easily._

He shifts his weight, until he’s propped only by his hip against the lamppost, sometimes obscured in turns by the flow of pedestrians, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue and flicking a page of the magazine casually, light, easy concentration knitting out his brow. A man deeply lost in thought.

Joe’s presence remains unchanged, or may seem so to anyone who isn’t Nicky, that is. He gives another dart of his tongue, drags a hand through his hair and calculates the way Joe shifts nearly imperceptibly from foot to foot.

Nicky closes the magazine, slides it beneath his arm, and winks.

He’s pushed off the lamppost in seconds, moving along the road again to find another street to explore. There’s a slightly quieter, less traffic heavy area further up that is a little darker, a little steeper. The magazine gets tossed in a recycling bin a block or so out, and Nicky sets his focus on finding the quieter spot, figuring if he goes further down, towards a more dimly lit area he’ll have an advantage at hand.

The catch of the salt air picks up the further away from the upper level of the city he moves, the pathways a little more narrow, tiny bit rockier, and needing more caution in exploring ones surrounding. The kind of caution that gets thrown entirely to the wind the second Nicky feels a hand to his shoulder, pushing him with some legitimate force into a mildly crumbling stone wall, swallowing the slight gasp of surprise as he’s flattened to it, only the thought of their little game keeping him from surging up into Joe as he crowds him against it, one arm kept loosely at his own side, the other dancing just to the side of Nicky’s head.

“This more to your tastes?” Joe asks, the same growl from before now rougher, deeper, Nicky biting back the tentative whimper that threatens to break, every hair and nerve ending alighting with surging want and desire.

“Depends on what you consider taste, some might find this a little bold, presumptuous.” Nicky teases, all sass.

He plays to win, after all.

Joe’s anticipates his movement seconds before Nicky grabs at his waist, flipping their positions effortlessly, delighting in the tiny whoof that Joe emits as he presses between them.

A little more intensely than Joe had, Nicky leans all the way in, bracing with a hand to Joe’s waist, a knee sliding between both his legs, no pressure, but securely.

“Who’s a little bold?” Joe asks, half-breathless and delighted, half playful growl that’s bound to drive Nicky _wild._

“Don’t like another being made the master of your own game?” Nicky asks, voice a sing-song, sharing breath, knowing he’s not yet victorious but delighted by the possibility of it all the same.

“Contrary” Joe replies, leaning his head back, opening himself up to whatever Nicky might wish to do-or teasing him, Nicky’s considering both possibilities. “Surprise is half the enjoyment, after all.”

The sky above is purpling, twilight starting to fade away to true night, the off-handed glow of the streetlights around the corner creating a dazzling sheen across Joe’s skin, making Nicky want and want and _want._

A hum of voices, the sounds of activity, keep them both a little prone, starting lustfully at each other in the oncoming dark, until Joe gives a little shudder, one that dislodges Nicky from him without using any pressure.

They keep one of their permanent homes within the city itself, and Nicky knows they’ve both made the same decision a half-second before Joe is the first to duck away, not even giving Nicky an over the shoulder glance as he winds around the corner and vanishes into the shifting crowd.

There’s fire in Nicky’s veins and heat in his hands, even as he rolls his shoulders and heads off in the opposite direction of Joe, vibrating with tension and desire, the sure pathways home a prospect threatening to send him spiraling.

_Soon, my love._

~~

The flat is dark when Nicky lets himself in, gently closing the door behind himself and locking it with a little flick of his wrist, debating about turning the lights on and deciding to leave it. There’s just enough remaining twilight to give the entranceway and kitchen a faint glow, and he slips into the kitchen first.

At first, he considers the very real possibility that he’s beaten Joe home, but a strange sense of _knowing_ tells him this may not be the case either. The game didn’t end just because the door closed.

His footsteps remain light, centuries of training a great asset to sneaking around, but there’s no way to hide from his husband when he’s at the top of his game, and Nicky is tackled to the ground with an unceremonious tug to his wrist, a pressure on his shoulder that brings him to his back on the floor.

“Shit.” A little breathless when he feels his waist straddled, hands automatically finding Joe’s out of habit and gasping when there’s hot, intense pressure along his pelvis, throbbing, warm and inviting.

“Impatient?” Nicky chuckles, smugly glancing up to meet Joe’s eyes in the dark, able to see the slight sparkle there as he drags himself up high enough to kiss him, one hand freeing itself from Joe’s waist to find his neck, his hair, anything to bring his head down and find the sweet, welcome heat of his mouth, moans swallowed by Joe’s own with every twist and flick of his tongue, seeking and needing and wanting _more_ and _more._

Joe’s rocking down steadily against him as they kiss, one hand finding the light switch higher up and bathing them both in a sudden, warm yellow glow.

“I would think”, he mumbles, when they break for some oxygen, “That I’ve been more than patient” Hips utterly refusing to still and driving Nicky mad with their throbbing, heated pressure. His own cock fully stirred and desperate for contact.

“Yeah, okay, yeah.” Because Joe had a point and Nicky’s just as desperate by now, “Come on, up here.” Tugging on his hips, Joe climbing further up his chest, Nicky working the fly of his pants with fingers slightly to clumsy, coordination ever so off, needing Joe’s heat and wanting everything _this instant._

“Easy babe.” Joe laughs breathlessly when Nicky curses, catching his fingers along the zipper, giving him a little glare through his lashes.

“Not my fault there’s _obstacles._ ” Nicky mutters, silencing anymore of Joe’s comments by getting a solid hand on his cock, shoving the pants down further and lifting his head, up to find purchase with his mouth, tongue sliding teasingly across the head. Sometimes, he’d take it slow, feeling more and more victorious with every impatient grab Joe would make at the strands of his hair. Other nights, like tonight, he is more than pleased to open his mouth and take him half way down with little preamble, all smug satisfaction at the bitten-off grunt Joe emits above himself, sliding one of his hands to the back of Nicky’s head, preventing him from thudding his skull against the flooring and using the other to graze along his cheek and jaw, letting Nicky feel the gentle warmth of skin and metal.

“I’m so glad you..worked out your issues with the obstacles.” Joe sasses, and if he’s able to sass, then Nicky isn’t doing his job well enough, swallowing around him and coaxing his own jaw to submission, relaxing to take him further, making Joe moan low in his own throat, the sensation shuddering it’s way through his ribcage, flexing the muscles of his stomach when Nicky taps lightly on his hip, giving him the go ahead.

Joe moves slowly, carefully, meeting Nicky half-way, bringing the slide to a rhythm they know as well as they know themselves, Joe’s steady grip a contrast to Nicky’s intense eagerness, hissing sharply when Nicky glides his fingers along his sac, the slightest hint of a tug that drives Joe forward, accepted instantly by the heat of Nicky’s mouth and throat.

Heat and metal digs just so into Nicky’s cheek, and he tightens his lips, tongue flat, throat contracting a little, encouraging Joe to move faster, pressing his fingers further into his sac, eyes half-closed as he lets Joe move and move, push and pull, greeting him, driving him in, only tightening his grip when Joe’s fingers dig a warning into his chin, skirting down to his jaw as his hips become stuttered and he’s coming, crying out softly in a series of choked pants and grunts, delightful to Nicky’s ears as the sensation is to his throat.

Something raw and intense, Nicky taking everything he gives with a quiet resolution of _mine_ echoing in his head, the tell-tale flickers of sparks in the corners of his eyes warning of his oxygen deprivation, hardly caring until Joe gently taps him, encouraging Nicky to open up and free him, keening a little as Nicky licks his lips somewhat too aggressively, eyes wide and glassy as Joe works his fingers through Nicky’s hair.

He’s hauled up rather unceremoniously, Joe kicking his pants away, Nicky catching up and tugging on his shirt, dragging it over Joe’s head to leave him bare, Joe backing him up into the living room, laughing when Nicky turns them again, pushes Joe to his back and makes hasty, uncoordinated work of his own clothes while Joe finds one of their stashes in the coffee table drawer, about to flick the cap of the bottle open when Nicky extends his hand.

“Let me.”

Joe hands it over willingly, back tensing as Nicky climbs over him, the couch hardly big enough to fit them both entirely comfortably, and unable to care anything for it, far more occupied with getting a hand around Nicky’s cock, working his fingers across it, pushing the foreskin back and rubbing at the head while Nicky curses at him.

“What was that?” Joe asks, endlessly playful, voice thick and lust drenched.

“Distracting me.” Nicky huffs, arching into his grip all the same, rubbing mindlessly against Joe’s stomach, getting the upper hand when he presses a slicked finger against Joe’s entrance, Joe canting his hips downwards to help, sighing at the breach.

“Now who’s distracting who?” He teases with no heat to it. Nicky shaking his head, muttering something about him being ridiculous until Joe silences him with a kiss, rocking against his hand, tugging at the short strands of Nicky’s hair, squirming when he adds a second finger some time after, lazily dragging their lips against one another in a mockery of kissing while Nicky slowly works him open.

Always so patient, he was, so devoted. He took his time, studying Joe’s face, measuring his breaths, calculating his pleasure out until he became too lost in his own, letting go and falling.

He only adds a third when Joe starts whimpering, hips stuttering and trembling against his fingers, keyed up, strung taut and needing more.

“Shh,” Nicky coaxes, working the third in, bringing pressure and pleasure in the same upward stroke, rocking gently into the grip Joe has around him, “I got you.”

Joe knows that, knew that from day one, but it never fails to weaken him, to send that flood of warmth through his limbs, arching up as Nicky finally takes pity on him, encouraging Joe to let him go, pausing only to hand the lube to him and let him slick him up, forcing back the movement that wants to follow it.

The first press inward takes Joe’s breath away, even as Nicky’s brow furrows in concentration, hands wide and strong against Joe’s hips to keep him steady, Joe rocking down as far he can to help, both fighting back gasps and grunts as pressure radiates, flexes and draws them in.

The couch keeps them crowded, even as Joe lets his one leg fall to the floor, dragging Nicky down some with the movement and making them both moan as he shifts, sinking further in and finding purchase again.

Everything moves like molasses, for a moment. The air hanging heavy, thick, and unbroken as they work to meet each other, to find the spot they know so well, the secure warmth they relish.

“Yusuf?” Nicky asks, a moment after he’s fully seated himself, heart hammering against Joe’s ribs where he’s pressed up against his chest.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m good, it’s good, perfect.” Joe babbles, a little breathless, languid pressure coiled in his tailbone, spine throbbing.

“Good, so good.” Nicky rambles, his voice unsteady and clipped only in the way it gets when Joe knows he’s struggling to talk. How, after 900 years it was _still_ this intense, Nicky didn’t know. Neither did Joe, truly, and it seemed impossible to question it.

He draws back, Joe bringing him in, meeting him move for move, thrust for thrust, even as it starts slow, and finds a faster pace, a steadier rhythm before they’re entirely ready. Joe claws at his shoulders, rakes his nails down them, flexes his fingers against his spine, Nicky bends his head and catches the chain of Joe’s necklace with his teeth and _pulls,_ bringing a gentle, deliriously delicious pressure to Joe’s neck and a jolt of electric heat to his gut, making him shudder and work himself back onto his husband.

Demanding, hot. _More._

Nicky reads his thoughts perfectly, a hand finding Joe’s hip again, sliding beneath it to grab at his ass and pull him up and in, releasing his necklace with a tiny little smirk that makes Joe whimper, losing himself entirely, trusting Nicky to bring him back if he needs to, sweat collecting on the base of his spine as he tries harder and harder to meet him, more and more.

He’s half-hard again, Nicky’s stomach creating a tantalizing slide of pressure against him in every downward thrust, even as his movements become more stuttered, more reckless, mumbling nonsense curses against Joe’s neck, hands everywhere now. Along Joe’s leg, his thigh, his back, across his chest, in his hair, needing to touch him wherever he can.

Joe encourages him, wrapping both arms around his shoulders, pulling him further down, mouthing at the swell of his adams apple and trying to rock down, bring him closer as Nicky goes tight, grunting, filling Joe with the warmth of his release and broken whimpers that Joe swallows with his own, keeping him close and riding it out together, static briefly the only sound in Nicky’s ears as he wavers.

A moment or so later, Nicky stirs to the sensation of Joe’s fingers dancing across his spine, finding each knot and rubbing it slowly, making exceptionally displeased noises as Nicky slips out, only for it to transfer to a contented sigh while Nicky starts flicking his tongue against his chest, all soft sounds and little hums.

“So.” Joe says, voice thick, but tone causal. “Who won?”

Nicky bites his neck, gentle, sweet, the barest hint of pressure, considering Joe’s moan another victory.

~~

Several hours later, a half-empty bottle of red wine and the glaring of the alarm clock tells Nicky it’s a little after four in the morning, and he’s awake because the bed is cooling and woefully empty.

There’s a breeze coming from the living room, and he draws himself up, finding the nearest article of clothing-a pair of Joe’s yellow boxers and slides them on.

Predictably, Joe’s on the balcony, wearing a white and blue terrycloth robe, arms crossed over the banister and watching the seascape several hundred feet below.

“Oh, good morning.” He smiles, accepting Nicky’s arms around his waist, his sleepy chin hooking his shoulder, “Did I wake you?”

“Mm, your absence did, you knew it would.”

“Suppose I did.” Joe chuckles, “I promise you I didn’t mean to. I was just thinking.”

“A bad habit that, at four in the morning.” Nicky yawns, letting Joe move backwards to one of their large lawn chairs, accepting the seat in Joe’s lap, the arms about his waist.

“Even when it’s about you?”

“Especially when it’s about me.” Nicky giggles, slightly. “Inevitable though, anytime we come here.”

It’s nearly impossible to find Nicky’s exact hometown, so much time later. While they’d tried, numerous times, they can only use certain estimates, and some telltale landmarks that give a close, if not entirely positive idea.

It’s no different when they traverse Joe’s home, scoping out area after area of landscape, cityscape, and all that exists in between.

So much of the world changes, shifts, but Joe remains a constant, and Nicky to Joe.

Joe breaks his thoughts with soft lips to neck, casual, sweet, a deep comfort that makes Nicky sigh and lean into him further.

“You’re my home, love.” Nicky says, a little unnecessarily, Joe’s answering squeeze telling him he’s good to hear it all the same.

“And you mine, my heart.”

They both won.

**Author's Note:**

> Was this a seemingly weak premise to get Nicky and Joe flirting and having excellent couple’s banter and exploration? Perhaps. Do I find this shameful? Not even a bit.
> 
> S/O to my friend for the location information, the real MVP. 
> 
> [Cinque Terre](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cinque_Terre) looks utterly gorgeous and I’m abhorrent at geography, and enough so that I deliberately try to keep locations vague, which sadly does not always work. 
> 
> (And yes I did fail to make use of the ‘love walk’ I absolutely need to revisit this in future fics.
> 
> The flow is a little bit wonky, stiffer, and more wooden sounding in some parts. I do try to keep my writing flowy, but sometimes it doesn’t work out exactly as I plan for it to. Hopefully, it’s still enjoyable all the same. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! As always, self beta’d and you can find me on [Tumblr](https://coffeebeannate.tumblr.com/)


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